


Of Ale and Lavender

by Squiggly_Bones



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: 69, Anal Sex, Canon Divergence, Drinking, Fist Fight, M/M, Male Eivor, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, blowjob, bottom Eivor, eivor doesnt wanna deal with feelings, eivor is horny, just horny, look im just horny for this ship i have no excuse, mentioned ceolbert, spoilers ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28173837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squiggly_Bones/pseuds/Squiggly_Bones
Summary: Eivor and Ivarr met at a tavern in Sciropescire for the first time after a long while. The Dane suggested a fist fight and Eivor blamed the alcohol as to why he wanted something more than Ivarr's fists.
Relationships: Eivor/Ivarr Ragnarsson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 90





	Of Ale and Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all I have to say is i love this pairing a lot. Also, spoilers. The whole Sciropescire arc stressed me out so I had to pretend that things didn't happen... still, this is just really smut without any plot lol. hope u enjoy thanks. Not proofread.

Blood trickled down Eivor's chin, the smell of iron filling up his lungs as he wiped rubies off his beard. In front of him loomed Ivarr Ragnarsson, eyeing him down as he wore a proud and impish grin on his face.

"Is this all you can offer, Wolf-Kissed?"

Ivarr tilted his head for a second before preparing another punch. Agile as he was, this time Eivor dodged and landed a jab on the other man's ribs. The turn of events sent the crowd roaring and Eivor felt hot, the adreline rushing through every inch of his body.

 _This is way too much fun_ , he thought. He hadn't been in a fist fight, well, 'friendly fist fight' as Ivarr put it, for quite a long while and when and where better to do it than drunk in a tavern full of Saxons. "You're... getting slower, Ivarr" the alcohol slurred Eivor's words but he doubted anyone was sober enough to notice. "Slow... and dull, you're causing me... to be in a.. _hic_ lull..." Eivor laughed lightly and then sloppily prepared his fighting stance. His head was spinning but did not miss the way Ivarr rolled his eyes before standing back up.

"That's your worst one yet, great poet." Ivarr gave him a smug grin before rushing towards him. They hit an empty table, quickly stumbling all over the place. Eivor found himself underneath Ivarr's grasp and tried to ignore the way his heart drummed from his chest. Taut muscles, veined with battle and experience, pinned him on the ground and only then he noticed that they were both shirtless. It must have happened earlier in their fight. He couldn't recall; did not try to. Not when his eyes wandered all over the small scars on Ivarr's chest.

 _England is warm_. And somehow, it had started to feel warmer. Hot. _Burning_.

Then another hit. Eivor didn't dwell on the pain left of his face and instead struggled to flip Ivarr off him. The crowd cheered when he managed to roll over, talks of bets going around like they were two wild dogs putting on a show for these Saxons. 

_It's getting unbearably hot._

Maybe it was the way the alcohol burned on his throat or maybe it was the way he sat on top of Ivarr. The way the Dane lied under his gaze, his hands surprisingly relaxed on his side without any intention of fighting back. The way those hands slowly crawled their way up on Eivor's thighs and the way Ivarr met his own eyes, blue on blue, like there was some unspoken tension between them. Eivor stayed still and tried to figure out what was happening, as best as his drunk brain could, only to end up being kicked off by Ivarr. Eivor staggered but he was able to support himself back up, wiping the blood from earlier's punch off the corner of his lips.

 _Maybe it's only the ale after all_ , he thought.

The crowd had gone wild, a bunch of drunkards yelling at him to get up, with Ivarr encouraging it as if he was sure of his victory. "You put up a good fight, Wolf-kissed. Sweat and blood looks good on you." He raised a bottle of ale. "If Eivor admits that I have bested him, I shall treat each of you fuckers more to drink!" Ivarr gulped down the ale hastily, honey liquid dripping to his chin down his chest without a care. Eivor followed the wet trails on Ivarr's body, a curiosity that the Dane didn't miss. Ivarr put his drink away and gave Eivor a sly smile. "You look thirsty, Wolf-kissed. And somehow I don't think it's for this ale. If you keep on staring, I might just have to drag you out of here." There was the usual swagger in his tone that Eivor had come to be entertained by and he tried his best not to take Ivarr's last few words seriously. Yet some parts of him remained hopeful. Expectant. 

"With what? Your drunken arse?" Eivor teased. He was tired, but he also wasn't someone who would ever back down from a fist fight. He tackled Ivarr, drink spilling everywhere. They crashed on the door, leaving it broken beyond repair, and all he could do was return the grin Ivarr wore. "You've barely even impressed me, Ragnarsson." He threw a punch that was quickly blocked by an arm and a force that sent him stumbling backwards until he landed on his bottom.

"Your eyes that devour me say otherwise, Eivor." A small pause. Ivarr was drunkenly walking towards him, shaking his head off to get a clearer mind, until he was only a few inches in front of Eivor. "Perhaps I can impress you in other things, eh?"

Then there was a bubbling desire in his stomach, stirred up by the thought of Ivarr's skin against his. He felt his lungs get heavier with every inhale and exhale and the Gods know what would have happened if they weren't surrounded by people. Eivor shoved Ivarr off and stood up, vertigo hitting him quickly-- and so he decided to blame it for why he was suddenly dragging Ivarr by the hand, out of the tavern to leave dismayed Saxons behind shouting at them to come back and finish the fight.

Ivarr laughed heartily. An honest laugh he'd never admit he enjoys especially when they would drink together. Eivor felt like he was young again, sneaking off to the forests to meet a lover; neither of them letting go of each other's hand.

"That place smelled like piss anyway." Ivarr broke the silence.

"No, I think the piss smell was just you..." he chortled, his naked torso welcoming the calm breeze of the afternoon as they pass by the empty stables.

"Fuck off Wolf-kissed." Ivarr tugged Eivor closer, a hand on his messy golden locks and the other on his back as their lips met under the warm glow of the sunset. Eivor kissed back, taking in the taste of ale on the tip of Ivarr's tongue, pushing the other man until they hit a wall-- only there was none and on the slopes of Sciropescire two drunken idiots rolled down.

Eivor's body was halted by Ivarr who was halted by a huge slab of rock. He grunted at the pain brought by nature and the alcohol still heavy on his mind, stinging him with every little move. He lied on the grass, massaging his forehead and longing for the excitement that was quickly taken away from them. Ivarr sat beside him, a small cut on his arm, from the fall, he assumed. Nothing a vikingr like him can't handle.

"I am honoured, Wolf-kissed. I didn't know you wanted to kiss me that bad." Ivarr leered, his tone over the top and dramatic, and then gave Eivor's naked stomach a pat, abdominal muscles flexing against the cold, calloused hand that left burning marks on his skin.

He gave Ivarr a playful punch on the arm, avoiding the wound. "You were the one whose footing slipped. Lightweight."

Ivarr scoffed. "Please, you can't even stand right now." he relaxed beside him, legs sprawled on the grass. His hair was tucked behind his ear and his hand had crawled down on Eivor's thigh. He didn't think that Ivarr was doing it on purpose. It was more like... a feeling of familiarity. It felt comfortable.

"Are you sure about that? Do you wanna go again?" Eivor sat up only to prove that he still can. Not that Ivarr was in a much better state.

Ivarr only looked at him and smiled. "Come over here." He pulled him by the braid and gave his lips a lick. Eivor welcomed the initiative and opened his mouth for a deep kiss, climbing on Ivarr's lap with their arms all over each other. Ivarr went down to his neck, wet trails tracing his beard and a hand sneaking off to grab an ass cheek inside his trousers.

All he could do was grind against Ivarr, against the hand on his ass and against the thighs he had sat on.

"Getting impatient, aren't we?" Ivarr stopped paying attention to his neck, entertained by the way it displeased Eivor.

The sun had set and the winds of the night cooled the warm marks left on his skin and yet he was too proud to admit that he really wanted Ivarr Ragnarsson to continue touching him. Eivor released an annoyed grunt. And then as he started to sober up a bit, a laugh. Mostly for himself. No more blaming it on the alcohol. Maybe it was the way Ivarr's charming peculiarity had consumed him, after all.

"Indeed. Let's go back to the inn. It would be a shame to not use the bed there. Ceolbert made sure I got a comfortable one."

"Good idea. I do not want to fuck on the grass."

The walk to the inn was short yet it felt like a lifetime for Eivor. He wanted to be touched, wanted Ivarr's hands against his skin, wanted his own hands on him, and those wants quickly came true the moment they entered the dark, empty hallways of the inn. Eivor pushed Ivarr against the wall, leaning up ever so slightly to meet his lips, tongue on tongue sending waves throughout his body, blood rushing everywhere except his brain. Ivarr tittered against the kiss, grabbing Eivor's ass on both hands as they dragged themselves messily beside the nearby door.

"This should be my room" Eivor huffed against Ivarr's cheek and opened the door only to get shoved towards the bed right after stepping inside. It was dark with only a tiny ray of moonlight peaking from the slightly parted window to illuminate the edges of their bodies, harsh shadows carving battle-hardened muscles with every move.

Ivarr threw his sash away, no care where it landed, and made his way on top of Eivor who had no little tussle removing his belt and trousers. "Need help?" He ogled at him. "Although, the struggle is even more arousing."

Eivor scowled at his teasing way of helping him be free of his clothing. It was slow, agonising even. Ivarr was not clueless in taking leather belts off, Eivor was sure of it. "If this is some ploy to make me feel miserable then you have succeeded." He threw himself back onto the pillows with furrowed brows and an arm on his forehead.

Ivarr cupped his erection and Eivor replied with a small groan, needing the fabric that stood in between the Dane's hand and his cock to simply not be there. "I never took you for the impatient type, Wolf-Kissed. I always thought that was my thing." Perhaps he pitied on the way Eivor's breathing had gone heavier the more he rubbed his palm against his groin or maybe he simply wanted to take care of his own growing desire; eitherway, Ivarr had finally removed any piece of clothing left on Eivor and kicked his own trousers off, mouth and tongue immediately finding each other after. Scarred hands mapped Eivor's body as Ivarr leaned in for another sloppy kiss, mind too hazed to know who's biting whose lips.

Eivor reveled in the way Ivarr touched him, kissed him, the graze of their thick skins and body hair sending shivers down his spine. He hadn't been laid in so long and when he did lay, the touches never sent his chest drumming wildly. The cold hands never burnt him like Helheim. Never left traces that he desired even more when they parted with his skin. Many of them smelled the same; blood iron, sweat, dirt. But they were never Ivarr Ragnarsson who tasted surprisingly sweet on Eivor's tongue.

He ran his hand on his hair, dark locks untangling as his fingers passed through them. With one strong twist, Eivor flipped their bodies so he sits on top of Ivarr, receiving an amused, quiet laugh from the other man.

"I like it better when you're underneath me." He whispered on Ivarr's ear, voice heavy as they grinded on each other's erection. He felt Ivarr grow harder against his own as he relaxed his body beneath him, hands tight on Eivor's thighs once again. A grip that only got tighter the moment Eivor started jerking their cocks together, soft skin wet by spit rubbing smoothly against each other. Silent moans and hands that found their way to grab his ass only made Eivor thrust against Ivarr faster, rougher.

"Eivor, s _æ_ ti, are you trying to end this night quickly?" Ivarr halted him with a breathy voice, tone almost cracking up. "I've barely even seen you messed up."

Before Eivor could even do anything, Ivarr had already brushed his hand off and replaced it with his own. He held his cock and slowly sat up, pushing Eivor slightly on the bed. Ivarr gave it excruciatingly slow strokes, teasing him with bites and kisses on his neck down to his chest. He hated this torture. He could bear punches, bruises and, hel, even piercing arrows . But not this, not Ivarr taking his merry time with his throbbing dick, feeling like he's about to explode.

"Ivarr... " he grunted, jaw clenching whenever he'd get a sudden deep stroke. "You're too slow." His words were almost a taunt, if only it wasn't said in between heavy breaths.

"Ah, but your..." Again, a long and deep stroke from Ivarr sent Eivor's mind blurry, his fists curling on dark hair, grabbing all that it could. "Your reaction makes it all worth it." Ivarr drowned the next few moans from Eivor with a kiss, hand still skillfully working on his cock.

It was almost as if the Dane was going to kill him through suspense. Eivor almost felt ashamed of how bad he wanted his touch, but again, Ivarr had stopped and left him hanging. He felt him shift on the bed, his partially illuminated figure moving to the bedside table. The cool breeze found its way inside the room and with their bodies apart, it had started to bother Eivor even more. "Is this how it's always like to bed you?" He had started to wonder if Ivarr was even aware of how desperate he was. Just as when he was about to touch himself, Ivarr slapped his hand off.

"Come now Eivor, patience." It was nearly hilarious for _the_ Ivarr Ragnarsson to tell him about patience, but Eivor obeyed with no little curiosity and excitement. There was a popping sound, like a cork was removed from a bottle, then the smell of lavender. Eivor quickly catched on to the scent of the oil, it wasn't his; perhaps it was a complimentary from the inn or somebody left it here, Eivor didin't give it much thought. Neither did he ask how Ivarr knew it was there. Not when his mind was too busy thinking about tasting the Dane and hearing him say his name. Relished on the way the word ' _Eivor_ ' rolled on his tongue.

He took Ivarr's cock in his hand, tuning his strokes to the other man's thrusts, the scent of lavender filling up the air as it got poured on his grasp. Eivor traced Ivarr's jaw with his lips, the stuble tickling his skin as he passed by it. Slowly, Eivor leaned forward, his hand finding the steady rhythym to please Ivarr who had gotten comfortable on his back. "I always thought you were impulsive."

Ivarr laughed, "In many things, I've been told I am." His hand now soaked in oil had reached Eivor's ass, touching his entrance in light, circular motions. "But I do not like quick fucks. I get bored easily." Then, a knuckle-deep digit was in, getting a whimper from Eivor. "But you... You do not bore me."

He did not know if those words had meaning or they were as simple as that. Did not want to know. There was no need. This would be the only time he'd ever give in to temptations with Ivarr, he told himself. Yet, the pride growing in his chest was undeniable as if he craved the other man's praises.

Eivor's grip on Ivarr's cock grew tighter as a finger deepened inside him, drawing huffs from his lungs. He shifted so that he was lying on his arm, giving Ivarr an easier angle to work with. Eivor held him by the base, giving his erection a lengthy lick before going down on him, cheeks hollowing as he sucked on it deeply, taking a breath when Ivarr added a second finger. His toes curled at the way the fingers themselves curled inside him, hitting a spot that made it hard for him to not choke himself with Ivarr's dick. He started bobbing his head, heedless from the jolts of pleasure, fingers twisting and streching him on the inside. "Ivarr..." he grunted against the length of his erection, giving it a few slow pumps before trying to take it in again, hot tongue flat against the tip then going deeper and deeper. Ivarr simply replied by thrusting against Eivor, a few moans escaping his mouth. Their rhythm had gotten faster, another finger making its way inside of Eivor. His voice was muffled by Ivarr's cock buried deep inside his mouth, the thick outlines almost visible on his throat.

"Eivor..." Ivarr pulled his fingers out, oil stringing from Eivor's ass. The Dane's breathing had gotten slow, broken, hot; hand gripping Eivor tightly on his thighs as he fucked his mouth deeply. "Eivor... shit-" To Eivor's disappointment, Ivarr pulled away, almost shoving him off to sit himself up.

Ivarr had gotten surprisingly quiet, no more taunts and teases; and again, Eivor wondered if this is what it's like to bed him. An unusual calm had settled between the both of them ever since the kiss outside the tavern. He thought Ivarr would have been more... selfish. Reckless. He expected him to only take and never give when it came to sex. Expected him to lay with every Saxon and Dane alike just for the heck of it. But ah, there was a certain gentleness in Ivarr that felt like it was only for him. He didn't quite know what was it that made its way into his chest, but Eivor decided that he would make the best out of this night.

Ivarr pushed onto him, hand cupping his head with messy golden locks tangled in between his fingers. He felt the tip of his cock nudge his entrance, biting his lip as the first inch was in. All he could do was raise his ass higher, muscles hardening as he took quick breaths. Then, it was all inside, filling up every space with pleasure, stretching him with intense heat, the scent of oil had gotten even more empowering.

Ivarr planted kisses on the nape of his neck, tracing his huge scar. "I like this... it's beautiful." down to his shoulders, leaving marks that burnt his skin as he thrusted himself inside him.  
  
His scar had gotten many praises in bed to the point where a lot of them felt stale, a heat of the moment kind of thing, but for some reason he let Ivarr Ragnarsson get into his head. Someone who had become ashamed of his scar praising someone else's sent Eivor's heart hammering against his ribs. His fists clenched tighter on the sheets as Ivarr prodded him harder, the slick sounds of skin slapping against skin ringing through their ears. The hand that was on his head had now grabbed him by the hair, pulling him into submission. "Ivarr... more.." Eivor threw any pride he had left, just for tonight, and accepted the desire coiling inside every inch of him. No need for alcohol nor drunken fist fights. Maybe it started way back in Ledecestre, but he really just wanted Ivarr to bend him over and fuck him like this.

Eivor felt his head spin, overwhelmed by how deep the Dane can still go as the bed creaked and slammed against the wall behind them. He was breathless, saliva drooling out from the corner of his lips only for Ivarr to hunch down and kiss him from behind. Just like the way he fought, his thrusts were almost unpredictable and it was sending Eivor to the edge, hitting every sensitive spot inside him, making Eivor release the lewdest sounds he never knew he could.

Ivarr sneered, his forehead resting on Eivor's back, satisfied at finding out what makes the Wolf-kissed scream in pleasure. It was almost merciless, the way Ivarr continued to ram his cock up inside him onto that very sweet spot, grunting at the friction of their skins, hand still tight on Eivor's messed up hair. His other hand focused on Eivor's erection, sending him into even more pleasure with every stroke matching the rhythm of their bodies. It didn't take long for Eivor to feel himself near, panting, chasing for air, screaming the Ragnarsson's name, immense pleasure overcoming his body as he got fucked into coming on the hand around him, body stuttering and muscles clenching around Ivarr's dick.

"Good boy, Eivor." Ivarr cooed in between his own breaths, pushing the slick fingers inside Eivor's mouth, letting him taste himself before replacing the digits with his own lips. Eivor let himself dwell on the praises, wished for him to do it again. Ivarr soon followed after, filling him up with hot liquid as he continued to call out Eivor's name and fuck him through his orgasm, dick twitching against the hot ring of muscles.

He found warmth in the way Ivarr said his name, said it out loud like you would a lover; but with the haze of sex gone, he did not want to pay it much attention anymore. Did not want to know where his thoughts might lead him. He rolled over, lying on his back after Ivarr had pulled out, sweaty and tired. The night breeze cooled the air around them and the silence was welcomed. It was calm and felt almost nothing like he imagined being with Ivarr would be.

"So, have I finally impressed you, Wolf-Kissed?" Eivor looked at the man beside him, sporting a cheeky grin barely visible from the darkness. He returned the grin, propping himself up with his elbow.

"I think you have to try harder next time." Eivor teased, playfully giving Ivarr's leg a light kick. The Dane replied by tangling their legs together, for warmth, Eivor assumed; he had no idea where the blanket had gone.

Ivarr laughed quietly, almost as if he was dozing off to sleep. "Then perhaps next time we can actually do it in your room. Not Ceolbert's"

Eivor's eyes widened. He sat up and looked around, Odin's sight giving him a much needed help and Gods, his things weren't here. Behind the door hanged a rather ornate cloak and all he could do was rub his palm between his forehead. "Shit. How long have you known?"

"Ah, the kid likes lavender oil, said it aids his sleep better. I got him some a few weeks ago. Made it myself. The smell was rather familiar."

Eivor couldn't help the laughs that escaped his mouth, Ivarr even enabling it with his own snorts and sleepy giggles, staring at the mess they've made of Ceolbert's bed before going back to lie down.

Well, the kid is going to be in for a surprise when he returns to the inn later.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this started out as a quick shag behind the tavern and then ended up like this... Also I just wanna say that I might continue making more fics for these two because I really can't think about anything else. haha


End file.
